Drops of Rain
by Hidden Tala
Summary: Fifty thousand words of ExT. 07:. "I came here curious," he started, the light coming back in his eyes. "I wanted to know if I can still do it." Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. "Push your buttons." Smirking, he couldn't contain the excitement he felt in seeing the faltering in her eyes. "I'm the only one who can."
1. homecoming

**Drops of Rain**  
by **Hidden Tala**

* * *

**title.** homecoming  
**disclaimer.** CCS © CLAMP  
**genre.** drama/angst  
**warnings.** AU, OOC, shorthair!Tomoyo, inebriated!Tomoyo, bitter!Tomoyo, unbeta'ed

**note 1.** and i'm alive after all. my sincere apologies for being MIA these past years. i'm gonna be original and say that life hardly happened to me at all. if you're a loyal reader or simply waiting for updates for my unfinished stories please try to visit my profile so i can apologize properly.

**note 2.** _Drops of Rain_ is a collection of one-shots that may or may not be related to each other. the goal is to write fifty-thousand words of Eriol and Tomoyo.

* * *

**dedication.** to first loves, lost loves, and never forgotten love.

* * *

_BEEP._

"So, umm..." Amidst the crackle of static was a shallow intake of breath. A pause and more uncertainty. Then a sigh that could either be resignation or resolve. "Next Saturday at the Palace Hotel... there's going to be an alumni homecoming. I already bought your ticket." Another hesitant pause. "Are you coming?"

"For the love of God-"

"Shut it, Syaoran-kun!-"

"If she wants to pretend we don't exist because she's still sore about what happened then that's problem. Let her swim in her ocean of bitter tears and end up exactly like-"

_BEEP._

"Good day. This is Murakawa Aini of au by KDDI. Our company has recently launched a new product called-"

_BEEP._

"It's me. When can I see you again?"

.

.

.

.

.

It was an open bar.

And thank God for it, she thought numbly as she tipped the glass and shoved the yellowish green substance down her throat. She mumbled some words of gratitude to the passing bartender who paused in her direction to pour her another round of that thing she could only describe as a very happy apple juice. She lifted the glass and watched it with grim fascination. A few more of these and she's going to be just as happy as-

"You cut your hair."

The world spun around her and her almost-drunken thoughts came to a screeching halt. A plethora of profanities she didn't know her brain had in keeping came gushing forth like the dark and muddy waters of the flood. Good thing her mouth was slower than her brain tonight. Ignoring the way her fingers quaked, she sat the glass down and looked over her shoulder to look at the man who easily shattered her buzz. She swallowed. Maybe she should have gotten a stronger drink. The apple juice on drugs clearly botched its job in maintaining her inebriated state.

He took the bar stool next to her. He smiled and she felt pricks of invisible needles poking her in the eyes.

"It looks good on you."

"Hn."

The silence that stretched between was dry and unnecessarily painful. She blew air through her nose.

"I apologize for offering my greetings late," she said finally, her tone deceptively light as her gaze fixed to the band on his ring finger. "Congratulations on your marriage."

His reply was an incomprehensible sigh that she didn't bother to interpret.

After another awkward pause, he said, "How are you?"

She paused from playing with her drink and met his gaze squarely, and then downed the drink in one go. Again, she wished for something stronger. Something that could knock her out senseless or make her believe she's a donkey or a caterpillar or a mouse-anything but herself. She turned to him once more, her lips curled up without humor. "You know, you and I... you and I... We have nothing to say to each other."

"Tomoyo-"

"Nothing," she enunciated, ignoring the shudder that went through her when he said her name. "I'd appreciate it if you'd go."

"I'm sorry."

Her disbelieving snort was meant to jar him. She hailed the bartender for refill and when the glass filled she practically inhaled it. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You should slow down with-"

"Didn't I just tell you to leave?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" The laugh that bubbled up out of her was contemptuous. And when she looked at him her eyes shone with and raw and savage hate. "I loved you. Pathetically, idiotically-with everything I had."

They stared at each other, none of them blinking.

He drew away first and then shook his head.

"I loved you with more than that."

* * *

**a/n.** hear that splatter? that's my foot on my brain. *runs away and hides*


	2. anchor

**title.** anchor  
**disclaimer.** CCS © CLAMP  
**genre.** romance/hurt/comfort  
**warnings. **AU, OOC, derealization, depression**  
**

* * *

**dedication.** to the weary and lost: may you be found again.

* * *

You see her amidst the smoky haze of disorientation. Her whose eyes speak languages you still can't understand. And she whisks you away like a thief and you are galloping through the dark woods of unreality and back into yourself.

You start, breathing heavily, and you realize she's holding your hand. She squeezes it and you know you are real. You are here. You're not an old sorcerer, or a pawn, or a dot in the world.

"I'm here," she tells you and her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I'm with you."

And you struggle to understand why she would still want you. When you're not even half a man, but a shadow of someone from a long distant past.

"Because you're you," she cries brokenly, like you're breaking her heart.

Something inside you splinters.

"Because I love you."

And gets back whole again.

Shakily, your hand reaches up to her face and and you trace the tears away. "I... I don't deserve you."

She smiles at you and it is poignant, like a poem, like a dream. "I don't deserve you either. But I want you and I'll keep you."

Your eyes burn and you feel full to bursting.

She gets up from being perched on the bed beside you and she holds your face, softly, like you're something precious. "Wherever you go, I go. So please don't go where I can't follow."

You choke and she kisses you, your tears mingling with hers, and now she's holding you tight, you feel the flutter of her eyelashes on your neck. You draw her close to you, telling yourself that you are real, she is real-this is real.

And you thank whatever God that existed that she is here, your anchor, that she loved you enough to stay.

* * *

**note. **this is personal, so i apologize if it makes little sense. i've written in my profile about _Drops of Rain_ being an avenue of exorcising my demons, and this story is just that. i've been feeling detached, like i'm not really here, and i just want to prove that i am. i exist. i mean something. i can still do something. and so, here it is. again, sorry if it's really weird.


	3. someday

**title.** someday  
**disclaimer.** CCS © CLAMP  
**genre.** romance/drama/friendship  
**warnings.** AU, OOC, in medias res, 2nd person, unbeta'ed

* * *

**dedications.** to mimichan88, because you listened; and to happy endings, because we deserve it.

* * *

.

.

.

You fidget in your seat, as if ants were crawling in your skin.

You hate waiting. No, you detest it. You are weary of it.

You check your watch for the third time and you hear the chimes sing. You are still half an hour early. And yet you look up and he is there smiling fondly at you.

_Ten years,_ you think.

Ten years and he can still play ping pong with your heart.

.

.

.

You fall in love with him in the summer of 2003.

It comes to you as silent as a creeping spider, slowly, gently, weaving a home in your heart. It comes without the explosion or the fanfare you have heard about love. It comes when he laughs at you as he brushes the seaweed off your hair, just before a beach ball was thrown in his face.

.

.

.

You don't tell him.

But his brief touches grow longer. The pat on your shoulder becomes a squeeze. The guiding hand by your elbow becomes a side hug. And the hand at the small of your back becomes possessive.

You don't need to tell him.

"What's up with you and him?" Syaoran demands from you when you're taking out books from your locker.

"What do you mean?"

He scowls. "Don't give me that."

You shrug. "There's nothing going on there."

Sakura sighs from behind him. "Leave her alone, Syaoran-kun."

He turns to his girlfriend in frustration. "Don't you see? She's setting herself up for-"

"Can't you see she's happy? She's a big girl. She knows what she getting into."

You try to contain the grin but it slips by you. Because Sakura's right. You're happy.

You really are.

.

.

.

You blink and graduation is here.

"Did you know," he begins, twiddling a lock in his finger, "your hair changes color when it catches the sun?"

You swat his hand away, he laughs, and you lean on the rooftop's railings. Sakura's right. You knew what you were getting into. But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less.

He stands beside you, your arms touching, and you feel his cheek rest on the top of your head. "I'll remember this in the fall, when it's cold, and when I miss you."

"What, it's red?"

"It's beautiful."

You feel something shift inside you, an earthquake tearing your resolve.

He feels you tremor against him so he presses you close. "When I come back-"

"Don't," you interrupt, your hand coming up to brush away the tears. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He releases you from the half embrace and turns you to him. "Do you trust me?"

You stare at him with your watery eyes and you find his own shining with unmasked pain. You nod.

"I love-"

Eyes widening, you cut him off by pulling him down to a kiss. Your noses bump and your teeth crash with his. But it is a kiss.

Your first kiss.

"I'm sorry," you say, embarrassed by your clumsiness.

"That you kissed me?" he jokes.

You glare at him. "That it's awful."

He surprises you by pulling you by the waist. You hold up a palm to his chest and his heart answers you with a thump.

"I know why," he tells you, his blue eyes speaking words to you more than his mouth. "But maybe someday you'll let me say it."

He leans down to you and claims your lips.

.

.

.

He calls you frequently.

If he couldn't, he emails you with long messages. He talks about the part-time job he's gotten. The people he met. The meals he's taken that day.

You talk about your classes in university. Your odd professor in Classical Literature. Tokyo is so hectic and you wish you are home.

You don't talk about you.

You don't have a name.

Because to give you a name means certainty.

Tangibility.

Permanence.

And you don't-you're not any of those.

.

.

.

Months turn to years.

And one day you stop writing.

You're graduating soon and he hasn't come back. You fear he never will.

You can't remember his voice. His messages sound foreign to you.

More years come and pass.

It is September when your friends come to visit you.

"So," Sakura starts, "I heard from Eriol-kun. He said you two don't talk anymore."

You give her a quick glance from the batter you're mixing. "I thought I told you that years ago."

She dips a finger in the batter. "You never said you started it." She licks it clean. "He thought you still live at your old address. He didn't know you relocated in Kyoto. He said he sent you letters there when you stopped emailing him. He even joined Facebook to look for you but I told him you don't have one. What happened, Tomoyo-chan?"

You shrug. "People change. Feelings change."

From behind you, Syaoran opens the fridge. "What are you hounding her for, anyway?" he complains as he munches on a chocolate bar. "Hiiragizawa's already moved on with that redheaded chick."

Both do not miss how you slow in your mixing.

.

.

.

And so ten years has passed.

And he's come home.

For now.

To you, he looks physically unchanged. Maybe he has grown taller. But he's always been tall.

He closes your distance and sweeps you up in a hug. If he feels you freezing, he doesn't call you on it. He lets you go and grins. "You're one tough girl to find."

He takes the seat across from you and you try to fix the shaken look on your face.

You order dinner and you start to talk about stuff.

You talk about old times.

You talk about now.

You talk about anything.

"I miss you," he says, finally, in the middle of dessert.

Your crème caramel suspends in mid-air.

He laughs at your stunned face, then sobers. "I still miss you."

You swallow and you bite your food.

He leans back in his chair and he stares at you with those deep blue eyes. He sighs. "I'm not as patient as I was, Tomoyo."

The tense silence gnaws at you.

"You're in love with me," he states it like law. "You always have."

This time you glare at him.

He crosses his arms but his eyes were lit with something akin to warmth. You see him reach inside his jacket's inner pocket and he sets something down in front of you.

It is a wad of old, faded, opened letters.

"The new owners took pity on me after my thirty-first try," he tells you. "They called me with the number I wrote in there and said you moved away. That was four years ago. I went to Tomoeda last week to get them back. They wished me luck."

You choke. You don't even breathe.

He leans forward and pushes the letters to you. "You won't let me say it. You won't even hear it. But will you read them, Tomoyo? They're still true."

You shake and you sob and he reaches out to hold your hand, his grip gentle and strong. You lift your head and you see him not without tears, though he smiles at you like you make him happy.

He takes in a shallow breath and releases it. He squeezes your hand. "I've run out of somedays, Tomoyo. It has to be now."

And so you cry.

And you read.

* * *

**note 1.** i cried writing this. please read and review.


	4. over time

**title.** over time  
**disclaimer.** CCS © CLAMP  
**genre.** friendship/humor/romance  
**warnings.** AU, language, timeline jumps, airports!galore

* * *

**dedication. **to monica and chandler, friends first and then something beautiful.

* * *

.

.

.

* * *

_He likes her best because she knows him best._

* * *

.

.

.

"So what's your favorite subject, senpai?"

He ignores the snickers coming from behind him and taps his chin.

"Really?" Meiling scoffs with incredulity. "He's about as interesting as my foot."

"Or mine," Syaoran intones.

He ignores them again but the bespectacled freshman's interest was caught. She steals a glance at his detractors.

"Don't be like that, you two," he hears Sakura chide the cousins. "Please don't mind them. Eriol-kun is truly an interesting person. He's smart and talented and handso—mmph!"

"Just eat your damn food, Kinomoto."

"Don't do that to my girlfriend, Meiling!"

Suddenly, the door to the rooftop opens.

Chiharu drags in a grinning Takashi by the neck with Naoko following after them, while Tomoyo and Rika lag behind, a serious discussion underway.

Takashi whispers in Chiharu's ear and slips out from his tyrant's grasp. He walks over to them to the makeshift interview desk. Takashi takes liberty to ingratiate himself into the conversation. "So what's going down?"

"Akari-san's interviewing me for her paper in English," he tells his friend.

Takashi purses his lip then nods. "Because you're from England."

"Because she thinks he's interesting!" Meiling guffaws and Takashi can't help but laugh too.

"Ummmm..."

He turns to the poor girl. "I apologize for my friends' behavior, Akari-san. You'll have to excuse them because they're uncivilized idiots. They don't know how to act around other people."

Takashi grins sheepishly. "Sorry. We mean no disrespect. This is just how we play here."

The freshman fidgets at the attention but accepts the apology with a nod. "So, senpai, your favorite subject?"

He crosses his arms and tilts his head upward in a thinking pose. Then he shrugs. "I'm fairly good in all of them."

"Math," Takashi informs them, his index finger coming up. "He always tops our tests."

"History," says a feminine voice passing by.

They look at her and she flips her long black hair. "He excels in math but his heart's not in it. And besides, he likes long-legged redheads so that's a plus, right?"

She saunters off and he glares after her.

Takashi grins at the freshman. "Listen to her. When it comes to him, she's always right."

.

.

.

* * *

_He likes to think he knows her too._

* * *

_._

_._

_._

"Stop," he tells her, snatching her drumming fingers when the traffic light turns red. "Do you want me to drive? I still know my way around town."

She turns to him with censure in her eyes. For a prim and proper girl, she's intimidating. "What? You think I can't drive?"

"You've been fidgeting since I arrived," he points out. "What? Do you have it now?"

"What?"

"Are you on your period?"

He sees the tic in the corner of her eyes and could have sworn there's steam coming off her ears. But she deflates as fast as a popped balloon.

Unconsciously, he holds on to the strap of his seat belt.

The light turns green and she steps hard on the gas as if she's imagining it's his face she's stepping on.

.

.

.

* * *

_But time goes by and people change._

* * *

_._

_._

_._

It is Takashi who fetches him at the airport that year.

"She let you drive her car?" he asks in disbelief once they're in the black sedan. "What have you got on her that I'm not aware of?"

Takashi switches the ignition on and listens as the engine hums to life. "Old Volks finally retired last month. She let me borrow old Honda until she comes back."

The image of the old and beaten, yellow Volkswagen, comes to him in a flash. He shudders at the unwanted memories that comes with it. "Two years too late if you ask me."

Takashi howls with laughter. "You still sore about that?"

"I got hospitalized because of that," he deadpans. "So when is she coming back?"

"Next week?" Takashi shrugs. "I'm not really sure. Her mother's still showing her off to potential business partners."

He frowns at that. "If she's not careful Sonomi-san might talk her into a business arrangement of some sort."

Takashi snorts as he makes a left turn to an intersection. "If there's anything I know about Tomoyo, she's got a head made of concrete and nerves made of steel. No one can talk her into anything she doesn't want."

He doesn't speak, though his thoughts trouble him.

Suddenly Takashi's phone beeps. "Will you get that? Maybe it's Chi-chan. She said she'll text me her grocery list."

"Whipped," he mutters, then takes out the phone from the dock.

"Please. I've been whipped since high school. So who is it?"

When he doesn't answer, Takashi glances at him and sees him frowning.

"It's Tomoyo," he says, still frowning. "She says to tell me sorry she couldn't come home on my birthday."

Takashi whistles. "Well, there's always a first for everything."

Dejectedly, he returns Takashi's phone on the dock.

"So where to first? Do I drop you off at sensei's place or do we go to your old house?"

"She hasn't been our teacher in years. Quit calling her that."

"Get your head out of your ass." Takashi makes a face. "You're the only one who thinks like that."

He exhales loudly, feeling unnecessarily angry with Takashi. "Just drop me off at home. I'll go to her later tonight."

Takashi raises his brows suggestively.

He flips him off.

.

.

.

* * *

_Sometimes change unsettles._

* * *

.

.

.

He gets a call one chilly December night.

"Hello?" he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"We are calling for Mr. Hiiragizawa Eriol in behalf of Ms. Daidōji Tomoyo who has been in a vehicular accident earlier this—"

He springs up from the bed; his limbs like water, his mind a war zone. "What? Is she all right? Is she conscious? Who's there with her?"

He hits on the lights and sees it's 3:04 A.M.

"Ms. Daidōji is currently in the ICU and we would like you to please come immediately to Nagoya General Hospital to—"

"But I'm in England," he interrupts, sounding desperate. He paces back and forth. Why the fuck is he in England? "Have you called her mother?"

"We have tried contacting Ms. Daidōji Sonomi but she is not answering our calls—"

"Fuck," he curses, remembering. "She's in Shanghai."

The other line pauses, seeming at a loss on how to continue. "Is there anyone we can call who is in the country at the moment, most preferably a next-of-kin?"

"Li Sakura," he barks at once. "Or her husband, Li Syaoran."

He gives them their number and leaves the phone in his ear even when the call was dropped.

He stares at nothing, his mind in a daze, and stays that way until the phone rings again.

"Are you okay?"

If he's expecting anyone, it isn't her. "I don't know."

"Are you going back to Japan?"

He notes absently that she doesn't refer to it as home. Because home, for her, is in Hong Kong. So what the fuck is he doing here when home is over there?

"Are you kidding me?" she rants when doesn't answer. "You're still thinking about it? This is Tomoyo we're talking about. She's—"

"I've got to hang up. I'm calling my agent."

"_What?!_"

"I'm coming home."

Twenty hours later, he finds Fujitaka, Syaoran, and Takashi in various states of sleep in the hospital's waiting room. Takashi catches sight of him and the spiky-haired reporter walks over to him and informs him she's just gone out of surgery.

She's stable.

She's going to be okay.

.

.

.

* * *

_Sometimes change is good._

* * *

.

.

.

He gets a part-time job as an EFL instructor in a private university. In his spare time, he studies history by distance learning at Oxford.

He doesn't go back into banking again.

"Why?" she asks him one day when the bandages are gone and the therapy is over.

He looks up from writing his assignment and considers her. "Because."

She rolls her eyes at him, fixing her bangs to cover the scar on her forehead. "Just answer the question."

He sighs and takes his glasses off. "Why is it so important to you?"

She frowns. "Eriol, you just uprooted yourself and now you're making odd decisions."

"Odd?"

"You're teaching," she points out.

"And it pays well," he shoots back.

"You're not..." she trails off, looking a tad concerned. "Are you... Are you thinking about settling down?"

He puts on his glasses and stares at her. "Are you coming on to me?"

She sputters. "E-Excuse me?"

He shrugs and returns to his laptop for his assignment.

"I mean are you thinking of settling down with sensei? You're almost twenty-seven and she's not getting any younger, it's not so far-fetched—"

He types loudly. "She and I have broken up before I moved back."

He feels her gaze on him but he continues typing as if she's not dissecting him layer by layer with her eyes.

"Are we even friends?" she complains, propping her feet up on the coffee table. "Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"Of course it is," she pushes, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. "You've been with her since we graduated from high school."

"And I could count the number of days we've actually been together," he says without looking up. "One-hundred and two. An academic term's even longer than that. She deserves someone who wants to be with her all the time."

"But you're here now."

He pauses and erases the whole document. "She deserves someone who'll stay just because of her."

Three months later, they arrive together at the Lis for their firstborn's fourth birthday party.

"What's this?" Meiling demands once seeing them in the driveway. She turns to Tomoyo with a scowl. "Where's that piece of meat I told you to bring?"

Tomoyo frowns. "I threw him away."

"Why? What happened?"

"Said it's too troublesome to attend a four-year-old's birthday party. I told him it's too troublesome to deal with his shit."

Meiling crows like an overfed hamster while he stares at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"What's that look for?"

He tries to formulate an acceptable response. "I didn't know you could be... fierce."

"Fierce," Meiling echoes and then cackles like a depraved hen. "Aww, darling, you've been holding out on him? Come, just show your ugly mug to Xiao Mei and I'll tell you how she's broken the hearts of the male population from Tomoeda to Osaka."

.

.

.

* * *

_Sometimes change is earth-shattering._

* * *

.

.

.

One night, Takashi calls him up to meet up for drinks. He walks in at the bar and finds Takashi sitting in a dark corner, as jittery as a caught eel.

"What's up with you?" he tells Takashi once he's sat down on the bar stool. "The bathroom's over there."

"Shut up." Takashi orders a beer. "Something happened today."

His brow raises and he studies his friend. "Chiharu kicked you out?"

Takashi visibly shudders and then fishes out a piece of paper from his pocket. He pushes it to Eriol's direction.

"It's a grocery list."

"Read the last line," Takashi grits out.

His eyes goes to the last item and guffaws. "Damn, she's strong."

"Isn't she?" Takashi slumps over the bar counter. "And I fucking love her for it. But I'm still waiting for promotion. I want to marry her when I've become an anchor so she could be proud of me in front of her parents."

"Chiharu's plenty proud of you. And how long have you been living with her in sin? You're damn lucky she's put up with you after all these years. Do her a favor and buy that damn ring."

"But—"

"Buy that ring and be a man, Yamazaki."

Several nights later, he arrives at the same bar with the whole crew to celebrate Takashi and Chiharu's engagement.

He doesn't know how he got home after fifteen rounds with Jose Cuervo.

He pulls the covers to him and hears a shriek.

"What are you doing in my bed?!"

"What?" he groans, pulling the blanket again which gets him flying out of the bed. "What the hell's that for?!"

"MY EYES!" someone screeches and dives under the covers.

He scratches his head and asks aloud why the hell it's freezing cold in his room.

He looks down.

And...

_Fuck._

.

.

.

* * *

_But most of the time change is necessary._

* * *

.

.

.

"Make it right," Syaoran growls at him over the phone. "Beg. Bribe her. Just make her go. My son's asking why his aunt doesn't come anymore. He thinks he's done something wrong."

"I'm busy this Saturday," he hedges. "Maybe you can pass along I won't be coming around this week."

"What the fuck did you do, Hiiragizawa?"

He coughs and makes an excuse that he has to go to the toilet and hangs up.

That Saturday night he stays at home and orders pizza, his body ready to binge on Die Hard and beer. Around 7:30, he hears the bell ring and he goes to answer the door only to find her there, dressed in short shorts and a faded sweatshirt.

"You walked here in that?" he asks, feeling overprotective and something else he didn't want to name.

She tucks a wayward lock beneath her ear. "Rika-chan dropped me off."

Of all people he doesn't expect Sasaki Rika to be the one to force them to resolve their 'tiff'. "She kidnapped you and brought you here?"

"I asked her to drive me here," she says quietly.

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

He catches her gaze and she doesn't look away. They stare at each other for what seemed like hours they didn't even notice the delivery boy coming up between them.

"Hiiragizawa Eriol, sir?" the teenager calls with the pizza in hand. "¥3,200, sir."

He blinks and turns to the boy. "This is robbery. I don't know why it's so damn expensive."

The boy gets his money and bids them good night.

"So..." he begins, feeling suddenly imbalanced.

She huffs impatiently and snatches the pizza from him. She pushes him out of her away, her shy persona already forgotten. "I'm choosing the movies and you're not getting any beer."

After three weeks of ignoring each other, she's suddenly everywhere.

He uses the public transit and he finds her company's advertisement plastered on the walls.

He invites Takashi out for drinks and the dolt invites his fiancee who brings her along the way.

He walks in the supermarket and she's there doing groceries. Then he ends up following her and getting items out of her reach.

"Did she tell you anything about me?" he calls Meiling one day, when he's sure he's going out of his wits. "Tomoyo."

Two thousand miles away and he can feel Meiling's smarmy grin. "Why? Is there something to tell?"

"She didn't tell you anything," he says flatly. "I'm hanging up."

"Wait!" Meiling shrieks. "I could help you with her."

He pauses, uneasy about the tone of her voice. "Yeah?"

"Well, now that you told her you like her—"

"I didn't!"

"Oh," Meiling draws out. "Well then, now that she told you she—"

"We slept together. Once. More than a month ago."

The silence on Meiling's end unnerves him.

"Did she at least enjoy it?" Meiling finally demands from him. "Tomoyo was a virgin."

He hurls the phone away and punches the poor unsuspecting wall.

Two days later, he invites her out for dinner.

"What do you want?" she demands once she plops down on her chair. "I had to wrestle with traffic for one and a half hour. Why did you want to meet here?"

His hand comes up to loosen his tie.

She takes notice and she leans back in her chair, scrutinizing him. "Why are you dressed up like that?"

He loves this about her, he tells himself. Headstrong. Observant. Forward. No-nonsense.

"Did someone die?"

Funny.

"This is a date," he tells her and repeats it when she only stares at him blankly. "Because I want to see you outside of friendship."

At those words, he saw her eyes widen fractionally and her face turns a deep shade of red.

He laughs at her because she's adorable, because he can make her look this way.

She recomposes herself, clearing her throat, and running her fingers through her hair.

Seconds later, she braves a glance at him.

He smiles at her and takes her hand.

She watches their hands.

"Took you long enough."

.

.

.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

.

.

.

She doesn't kiss him until today.

"Because I'm not easy," she tells him with pride. "Don't give me that face, you arrogant toad. You don't even remember what happened."

He snatches her tiny waist and pulls her to him. "And you do? You remember?"

She lets herself enjoy his warmth and props her feet up on the couch and hugs her legs to her chest. "Bits and pieces. I'm even sure I didn't enjoy it."

He releases her suddenly. "In my defense—"

She holds up a finger to his lips. "I'm kidding. I was equally thrashed, or maybe more. I think the bartender wanted to get me drunk. He kept on giving me shots."

He frowns and catches her raised hand and places it on his cheek. "I remember that. I told him to quit it and then he gave them to me."

She covers the other cheek with her left hand. "Aww, you're so sweet."

He pulls her back to him, making it look like she's straddling him. He squeezes her waist.

"I remember this," he tells her cheekily.

She adjusts her position so she's actually straddling him. She stares at him challengingly.

He gulps.

She sidles away from his lap with a smug grin. "You're all talk."

He faces heavenwards and mutters a silent prayer for strength to ward off her painfully innocent but equally dangerous advances. She thinks of it as a joke but he's woefully serious.

"How long have we known each other?" he says when he draws her back in his arms, her head now leaning on his shoulder. "Seventeen years?"

She lays a hand over his chest and draws circles with her fingers. "Turning eighteen this April."

"You think it'll take us that long to get married?"

She shifts her head so she's looking up at him. "If you wait that long, I'll kill you."

They stare at each other.

"Marry me, then," he tells her somberly.

She freezes in his half-embrace.

He catches the hand on his chest and pressed kisses on her fingertips. "Marry me, will you?"

She springs away from him and jumps out of the couch and starts pacing.

"Should I be nervous with that reaction?"

"Shut it, you fibbing little liar!"

"When did I lie?"

"Just now!" she cries, tears streaming down her face. "Telling me to marry you—"

He stands and holds her in place. "But it's true. I want you to marry me."

She struggles from his hold and huffs angrily when she couldn't get free. "You just want a kiss out of me! That's what started this!"

He lets her go and takes out something from his pocket.

It's not a ring.

"What's this? Your shopping list?"

"That's Chiharu's proposal." He takes her free hand and holds it tight. "I didn't know I kept it. But I saw it again when I was cleaning my drawer and it got me thinking how I'd do it when it's my time to propose to you. I've had that with me since our second date. So I'm dead serious. I don't have a ring yet but we'll go buy them now, if you'll have me."

"We've only dated for six months..."

"We've known each other for eighteen years," he counters.

"You haven't been in love with me that long—"

"I've loved you long enough." He kisses her on the forehead. "Maybe even before I knew it."

She buries her face in his chest and his arms wrap around her. "I know. You were pining after me even when you're with sensei. Meiling told me you punched one of my—"

"So is that a yes?"

She looks up at him. "When I see that ring maybe I'll be convinced to say yes."

He laughs.

And she kisses him.

.

.

.

* * *

**note.** does this mean i can sleep in peace now? huh, brain?! will you please let me sleep now?!


	5. this lifetime

**title.** this lifetime  
**disclaimer.** CCS © CLAMP  
**genre.** drama/romance  
**warnings.** AU, spoiler!Now&amp;ForeverUniverse, unbeta'ed, multiple POVs

**note 1.** hi! belated happy new year and belated happy valentine's day! this one-shot is inspired by_ alice hattercandy_'s fanfics (from the bleach fandom) and itazura na kiss: love in tokyo 2! and not to forget, my grad school report about literature and psychology. if, by some stroke of luck, my professor chances upon this (highly impossible), i hope he knows his book nearly drove me insane that i just had to write a fanfic to take the edge off.

**note 2.** to _mimichan_, i hope you're still reading so this shoutout wouldn't be so embarrassing... but do you, by any chance, go to soompi at hong jin young and nam goong min's page? because i saw a mimichan user there and thought it was you...

* * *

**dedication.** to writing, writer's block, and not giving up.

* * *

He had wondered what to say to her, had imagined how this conversation would go. He had always thought of himself as the vindictive kind, holding on to ancient pains, and bearing grudges of old, clearly not unlike his former self. But now that she's here, on this very day, he couldn't remember the words, couldn't quite bring himself to be angry or hurt. He doesn't feel numb. He just... _is_. And to him, it's pretty damn confounding.

"Eriol," she finally says when he only stared at her through the mirror.

He sees Takashi motioning for the door, a hesitant look on his face, and he went out dragging along a struggling Syaoran who was seething with murderous intent.

Loosening his tie, he turns around, a sincere smile in place.

"It's good to see you again, Kaho."

.

.

.

They decide to go to the hotel grounds. He insisted because he wants to see the bustle and the pageantry. Telling her to get them a table, he proceeds to the bar to order their drinks.

"I requested to add in rhubarb and strawberry," he tells her when she sips into the reddish-pinkish smoothie. "I hope you still like it."

Her answering smile is watery. "I do. Are you all right with yours?" She points at the clear liquid in his glass.

This makes him pause and he stares at his own drink. Then he laughs, self-conscious. "For the nerves."

With those words, her smile fractures and with a trembling hand, she reaches for her drink. "I... I came because I need to tell you something. I'm sorry for—"

"You did nothing wrong," he interrupts with a shake of head. "You did what you had to do. You had to look out for yourself."

"I should have trusted you," she cries, nearly toppling off the chair behind her. "I should have believed in you more than my visions, more than the stars! You loved me, Eriol. _Me!_ And I... I..."

He walks to her, despite the prying eyes watching them. "Yes, I did, and you loved me."

"I still—"

"I love her," he declares, his voice tremulous with the vehemence. "I am in love with her, Kaho. And I will marry her today."

"But—"

He reaches for her hand and squeezes it. "You taught me many things, Kaho. That I am not entirely selfish. That I am capable of love. And when you left, you taught me I still have more to give of myself."

He draws in a sharp breath and he releases her hand. "You were the first to see me, not as a shadow of Clow, but as me. You had brought in light into my empty existence. And if I had other lifetimes, I would have shared them with you. But this one..." he swallows and stares straight into her eyes. "This one is hers."

They hold each other's gaze, hers watery and his intense.

"She sees me past my abilities, past Clow, past my iniquities. She sees me as just a man and I am more myself when I'm with her."

She turns away from his gaze and for a minute she is silent, but with a shaky sigh, she finally says,"I understand."

The smile he sends her is poignant. "I'm sorry, Kaho."

.

.

.

"You win," Kaho tells her when she finds her in the alcove. "You have his heart."

Tomoyo doesn't turn to face the older woman. "It wasn't a competition—no, it was never meant to be like that, Kaho-san."

"Then why did you ask me to come?"

"Because you love him," Tomoyo answers, her breath catching as her shoulders quaked. "Because you deserved that chance."

Kaho stops behind her and places a hand on her shoulder, ignoring how the younger woman flinched at her touch. "Do you... do you doubt him?"

"N-No," Tomoyo says brokenly.

"Then why?"

Haltingly, Tomoyo turns around to face her, jets of tears streaming down her face, effectively ruining her makeup. "Because I wanted him to have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"He loves you too," Tomoyo sobs, clutching at her chest as if it physically pained her. "And I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that and not doing anything to give him a choice."

"No, Tomoyo-san. You're wrong," Kaho denies. "It's you he wants to be with, you he wants to marry. It's you whom he loves. He's made that clear."

Kaho helps her wipe her tears, offering her kerchief. As Tomoyo does so, Kaho can't help but take stock of her white dress, her made up hair, and the runny stains of mascara in her cheeks.

She could have been this girl once upon a time. If she had been stronger. If she had believed in their love more than the dreams or the stars.

She could have been Eriol's bride.

Kaho finally sighs, one of defeat.

"You can have this one, Tomoyo-san."


	6. the fragility of time

**title.** the fragility of time  
**disclaimer.** CCS © CLAMP  
**genre.** romance/family/supernatural  
**warnings.** AU, preview!Now&amp;Forever, OCs, OOC

**note.** soooo... i had toiled in writing this. took me YEARS to complete the plot in my head. i know i said i wouldn't post anything until it's complete, but i want to show you proof that i _am_ actually writing it. writing has become hard for me over the years; words do not flow easily as it used to be. but i'm trying. so, this is chapter 1 of _now and forever_. i don't have an exact date on when i would post its totality (_before forever_ is HARDER to write) but rest assured i am working on it. so, read on and enjoy!

* * *

**dedication.** to the loyal readers of now and forever. thank you for waiting and for believing in me.

* * *

The door creaked softly as he went in.

Anxiously, he inspected the darkened room, his eyes easily adapting to the lack of light. He's done this several times before that his eyes had gotten used to the dark. He's even memorized where things were after bumping into them so many times his shins were black and blue. At his third attempt, he managed to locate his prize but before he could grasp it somebody would always be lurking out the door. In his fright, he'd hide under the desk drawer, and then bolt out when the shadow is gone, but with the prize not in his hands. It was like some higher entity was conspiring against him.

_But today is different_, he had to reassure himself. _Today is the day. _

Because he could feel it—the power calling out to him. It sings to him like an old familiar song his mother used to lull him to sleep. It wasn't evil, just ancient, and perhaps... sad.

Avoiding the stacks of magazine lying on the floor, he swerved to the left and then moved forward across the room. In the bottom drawer of the desk was the thing he coveted. Reaching it, he waited for phantom figures to appear, darkening the slit of light under the door. But there was none.

Sighing in relief, he pulled it open, and there inside was the very thing that could change it all.

.

.

.

In the darkness, the golden rod gleamed like firelight; at its head, the sun and the moon shone, pulsated and throbbed, aching and awaiting its master.

He stood watching it all, his expression grim. His steps were heavy, dragging his feet forward as if he carried the weight of the world. As he drew closer, the pull of power seized him and his arm shot forward. The staff heeded his call.

All at once the darkness was lifted and the four corners were lit with a galaxy of stars.

His clutch tightened, knuckles whitening from the force of his grip. It has been too long, he thought, gaze wandering from star to constellations. Almost like a millennia. Or ten other lifetimes ago. Maybe even longer than that. Reaching for the pocket of his robe, he took out another glowing object in his palm. He studied it with an impassive expression, but his eyes were afire with longing and pain. His head bowed, his decision made. And hadn't it been made ages and ages ago? Hadn't it been said he would destroy worlds for her?

"I call upon the powers of the day and the night," he invoked in a solemn tone, feeling the staff grow warm and increase in radiance.

A series of unrelated images burst in his mind. Images of people, places, and events that had happened one lifetime and another. He sifted through them, anxious and impatient, until he saw that one image that blotted out everything else. That image widened and grew, filling up every space and corner his mind's eye could see. And he watched, enchanted.

Yes. There could be no other choice than his. It was always this. It will always be _this_. And if he died in the attempt, he'd die knowing he gave it his all.

His eyes shuttered, summoning a ghost, a memory, a touch, a voice—for strength.

One swing was all it took and the spell was made. "Sun and Darkness, unleash your might."

Light and Dark blazed past the golden staff, opposing entities unrelenting in their race for dominance. They traveled across the the four-cornered world, zigzagging, climbing, and ricocheting when hitting a hard surface. Amidst this power play, his eyes remained shut, stroking the object he was holding with his thumb. Suddenly a click! disrupted the chaos, a clasp unlatching, and Light and Dark, two contradicting forces, powerful and immense, were sucked into the glowing object in his hand. He struggled against the pressure, his arm lowering as if being dragged down by a boulder. But it was over soon. The weight was gone.

Then his eyes, wise and weary, fluttered open.

_It is done._

_._

_._

_._

"Didn't I tell you two that this room is strictly off-limits?" said the teenage girl standing in the doorway, fists balled to her waist, staring down the little girls who looked near in tears. Her frustrated gaze turned towards the boy beside the twins who had both hands in his pockets. "And why didn't you call me when you found these two in here?"

"B-But we din-!" tried the twin girls but were silenced by the older girl's quelling look. They pouted.

"Oi! Nanami!" called a disembodied voice coming from the other end of the hall. "Did you find them? Where's Tamaki?"

"Found them! The midget's in here too!" the teenage girl yelled in answer. "We're in dad's study!"

In seconds, the older boy was with them, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, stern-faced. He gave each offender a scrutinizing stare, eyes staying longer on Tamaki's unusually blank face. "So tell me, what are you three doing in here?"

The twins glanced at each other, both unsure of what to say. They then threw inquisitive stares to their silent brother. "Tama-nii?" one asked tearfully.

Tamaki shrugged, not willing to say anything.

The older boy's eyes narrowed into slits, trying to read into his brother's mind. It was mysteriously silent. He turned to his teenage sister. "Nami, go check if anything's missing. Dad will have my hide if he finds anything out of place."

"I don't find anything out of the ordinary, Akira-nii," Nanami observed, examining the shelves containing their father's knickknackery. "Maybe the girls were just playing hide and seek."

Akira crouched down to the twins' level and gave them a reproachful look. "Is that what happened? Didn't Dad tell you not to come in here unsupervised? There are things in here that could harm you—like that jar over there. What if you knocked that out while playing and you tripped on the shattered pieces? Dad's already worried sick about Mom. You know how she's feeling under the weather lately? So don't—"

"Nii-nii," cried the younger twin. "We—"

"Yumiiii," whined her other half with a shake of head. She did her best puppy-eyed impression. "Sowee, nii-nii."

Akira's stern face softened.

"What's that you got in your pocket, Tama?" Nanami suddenly asked, noticing how her younger brother kept his hands hidden the entire time.

Akira fixed him with a glare. "You have been acting strange, midget, and it's not just today. Show me what's in your pocket."

Tamaki's face was devoid of emotion, but the eyes behind the glasses were manic and afraid. With a sudden change of mood, he grinned, one that was not unlike their father's. "I got nothing important here, Akira-nii, Nami-nee." He took out his right hand and opened out his palm. There was nothing there. He did the same with the other hand, though he took it out more slowly. He held it out to them, showing a golden round object. "Thought I could use some watch."

What happened next was a blur.

The twins watched the shiny object with avid fascination. Akira tried to snatch it out of his hand but Tamaki had already flicked the lid open with his thumb. Nanami screamed as she felt a tugging in her belly, a vacuum-like force sucking her out of existence. A chorus of cries followed.

And they were gone in a flash.


	7. kindling 1

**title.** kindling 1/?  
**disclaimer.** CCS © CLAMP  
**genre.** romance/hurt/comfort  
**warnings.** AU/OOC/cut in parts

* * *

"I shouldn't have called him," said Daidōji Tomoyo as she eyed the entrance to the cafe. All this waiting has finally made her see the catastrophe she set up for herself. How long has it been? Ten? Twenty? Two thousand years? She'd lost count. But she couldn't help herself because of some misplaced sense of duty she had for him.

Or was it guilt?

Whatever.

Anyway, it's too late to back out now. She can't just up and leave. She could still hear it, the nostalgia in his voice, when he agreed to meet with her. His voice felt soft in her ear, like an old love song she'd buried deep in her memory. She had heard the yearning in his tone and something echoed inside her and awakened her own hankering for reconnection. She can't leave. She'd been left hung out to dry to know it hurt like hell.

Sighing, she opened her bag and took out a small notebook and ballpoint pen. She needed distraction. She didn't want to dredge up old hurts. Not now when he could do it later.

_i was the sun  
you'd orbit for,  
you said,  
to feel warm_

_tell me when  
did i die  
and burst  
like a supernova?_

Mouth hung open, she dropped her pen. For the love of god, this won't do. She's regressing. She's writing him bitter poems. And he hasn't even turned up yet. Maybe she could just leave a note and tell someone from the management to─

"Hey."

Spine straightening, her widened eyes found his panting figure, bent to the waist, looking as if he'd been chased by something awful. Grudgingly, she noted, even after all these years, his mere presence was enough to resurrect the dead butterflies in her stomach and make them hop, sing and dance.

"Did you wait too long?" he asked, taking the seat across from her, and tried regulating his breath. "My car got hit─"

"What?" she interrupted shrilly. "Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?"

He waved her worry off, sending her that boyish grin that was so familiar she felt her chest constrict.

She swallowed.

He stared.

"So," he ventured hesitantly after a long pause. "How have you been, Tomoyo?"

And inside her something just snapped. "I've been well, Hiiragizawa-kun. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The light in his eyes dimmed, and they turned guarded. "A decade now. Tell me, how are you really? How has life treated you while I was gone, Tomoyo?"

"I wish you would refrain from calling me that."

"Like what?"

"My name without the proper honorifics."

"I've known you since you were a girl, Tomoyo," he said with forced calm. "If you want to pretend I didn't mean anything to you, fine. That's fine. But I won't. I know you─"

"You don't know a _thing_ about me."

She breathed hotly. God, it was just like them. It was just like them to be this… this…

Eriol sighed and leaned back in his chair, watching her intently. Rubbing the skin between his eyes, he told her, "God, you're still pretty when you're mad."

"_Shut up_─"

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. "I came here curious," he started, the light coming back in his eyes. "I wanted to know if I can still do it." Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. "Push your buttons." Smirking, he couldn't contain the excitement he felt in seeing the faltering in her eyes. "I'm the only one who can."

Her heart lodged in her throat.

Grinning, he offered, "How about we order now?"

* * *

**a/n:** ahahaha i just realized this collection is running on a theme... one more and you're probably gonna take a hint and realize what's happening to me in RL. hahahaha. anyway, the second chapter of aftermath is 3/4 finished... i'll probably post it by the weekend. please read and review! i'd love to hear from you!


End file.
